


Masks

by Jaydee_Faire



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Romance, and good old oblivious ovelia, delita being delita, this fic might hurt your feels sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaydee_Faire/pseuds/Jaydee_Faire
Summary: Ovelia wonders if she knows who Delita really is.





	Masks

She heard him rise from the bed, but feigned sleep, shifting only slightly to watch him walk to the window.

He had called her beautiful, more than once. But it was in his grace that she found beauty, poetry in the strong lines of his bared body, even where it had been marred by scars. She'd come to know each of them intimately, in nights spent laying beside him, mornings curled in the shelter of his embrace. 

Delita had the usual tracks that any soldier might have, especially once that had seen as much violence as he. But it was the ridged and mottled skin on his arms and chest that she returned to most, tracing her fingers in the random patterns that something-- a fire, an intense heat-- had left on his flesh.

"An accident," he'd said, when she'd asked him about it. He refused to say anything more.

And was how it was, between them: no matter how closely he held her, he was always holding himself apart. At times she thought she only knew him when they were making love, when he sighed into her hair and kissed her temple and swore that he'd never let any harm befall her again. 

In public, he was distant, as propriety demanded. It would be dangerous for anyone to know how close they'd become. But there were times when he kept that distance, even in private when there was no more need for pretense. She would lean against him only be gently pushed away with a murmur of "We must be careful."

Careful of what? For who? And if he sensed he had cut her too deeply, he would turn and kiss her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "A day will come when we can be together," he said. "A day will come when we no longer have to hide. But you must be patient."

Patient. As if she were a child begging for a sweet. She would leave him to his maps and his letter writing and go to bed alone, trying not to miss his warmth in the chilly expanse of sheets. Sometimes, he would come to climb in beside her. More often, he didn't.

She should have been unhappy. And she was, until he turned his attention to her again, until he drew her close again, calling her his queen and telling her of how good it would be, when she was put on the throne where she belonged.

"And you at my side," she'd dared to say, once.

"And I at your side," he'd agreed. 

That night he'd seemed more like himself than she had ever known him.

Now he turned from the window, as if he's felt her watching him. He came back to the bed, sitting on the edge and reaching out to stroke her hair where it spilled across the pillow. "I will do this thing," he said softly. "I will see it through to the end. I will remake the world into what it ought to have been. For you."

She welcomed his kiss, put her arms around his neck so she could draw him down beside her. He would be himself tonight, for a little while, and she would cherish it while she could, for when she woke he would be someone else again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame Inkius for repeated heart-rending fanfics.
> 
> Visit me on tumblr @cyberphuck!


End file.
